


Changes in Routine

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dumb Teen Boys, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Smaurent, adventures in babysitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 03:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: Auguste was embarrassed that it took him so long to figure it out. He blamed those nights when Laurent's babysitter put him to bed before Auguste got home from practice. Stupid Lazar, throwing Auguste off his routine enough that he missed the meaning of what should have been an obvious shift in the pattern of Laurent's behaviour.





	Changes in Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Technically there is an implied potential future pairing here. If you squint. But it pretty much is gen.

It was no surprise that Auguste was, of everyone, the one who realised that Laurent could actually read. 

Though Auguste was embarrassed that it took him so long to figure it out. He blamed those nights when Laurent's babysitter put him to bed before Auguste got home from practice. Stupid Lazar, throwing Auguste off his routine enough that he missed the meaning of what should have been an obvious shift in the pattern of Laurent's behaviour.

Auguste was greeted by a familiar sight when he leaned against the frame of Laurent's open door. Laurent was sitting with his back half-sinking into the thick mound of pillows propped at the head of his bed. The queen bed was far too large for Laurent's still-tiny body, though the ridiculousness of it was at least lessened when Auguste was splayed out beside him taking up most of the space. That night, Laurent was clearly waiting for Auguste to come do exactly that, just as he did every evening before Laurent's bedtime. There was a book already clutched in Laurent's hands, opened at a random page, ready for Auguste to take it from him and read Laurent his story before he would even consider willingly drift off to sleep.

Laurent was reciting a story aloud as he stared down at the pages in front of him. This too was familiar lately. The first time Auguste came in to find him doing that, he'd figured that Laurent was just telling himself an unrelated story to keep himself occupied while he waited for Auguste. It wasn't as of Laurent didn't do much the same thing when he played with his toys a lot of the time, telling himself the tale of whatever adventure the little figures were apparently going on that day by providing a running commentary of what he was making them act out. The second time Auguste had found Laurent pretending like he was reading his book himself, Auguste had listened in for long enough before interrupting to realise that Laurent was telling himself the exact story that was in the book he was holding. Pretty much verbatim for how it was written in the book too, Auguste recognised.

Auguste had brushed it off. He'd read that book to Laurent so many times that it couldn't be that unusual that the boy could recite it from memory. Auguste could easily have done the same himself when it came to Laurent's absolute favourite books that they read most often. Auguste might even have done exactly that instead of bothering with the books themselves if it weren't for the enjoyment they both got from the ritual of flicking through the pages and marvelling over the pictures, as if they hadn't seen them all about a million times before.

Auguste had overheard Laurent 'reading' his books several times after that, still without thinking much of it. But then today, when Laurent passed the book across to Auguste for him to 'take over reading', Auguste found himself frowning. This was a book that he'd convinced Mother to buy for Laurent just last week. It was technically meant for children several years older than Laurent, but Auguste had thought that Laurent would like the story even though it was longer and had no pictures. They'd been on the fourth 'chapter' of five last night. And it was still their very first read-through of the book. So surely Auguste was mistaken about what it _seemed_ like he'd just walked in on.

"Were you reading this before I came in?" Auguste asked suspiciously. 

Laurent looked guilty. "Sorry. I wanted to know what happened!"

Probably he'd just been making up the ending, then. But still… better to check.

"I'm not mad," said Auguste. "In fact, how about you read to me tonight?"

"From the start?" Laurent asked. 

"Of course. I want to know what happens too. Go back to the start of the chapter."

Laurent flicked back a couple of pages, correctly identifying the start of the last section of the book even without having any of the pictures Laurent could usually have used to orient himself as to where they were in the story. That in itself seemed suggestive to Auguste, for all that he didn't want to get ahead of himself.

Auguste positioned himself on the bed beside Laurent, his body weight making the mattress dip enough that Laurent half-rolled up against his side, so that Auguste could see the page too. Laurent hovered his fingertip over the first word on the page the same way Auguste usually did so that Laurent could 'follow along' with the story as Auguste read it. 

And then Laurent started to read.

Legitimately _read_. Word-for-word what was on the page, except for a handful of times when he hesitated with a frustrated look on his face that silently declared he didn't know the specific word. Laurent nodded determinedly each time when Auguste supplied the right reading, as if committing it to memory, and picked right back up with the next word in the sentence.

It couldn't all be just straight memorisation of the story, as Auguste had previously thought. Not with a brand-new book. Or if it was memorisation, it wasn't of the content of the story itself, but rather of how whole words looked in writing. Laurent must have been learning them when Auguste had been pointing to them and saying the corresponding word. But Auguste would swear that he'd never said some of the words Laurent was reading out now. So Laurent must have extrapolated the sound of the letters to some extent too, like real reading.

It took Laurent a while to get through what was a relatively short chapter, for he read considerably more slowly than Auguste would have. But he still _read_. And he got to the end in time, closing the book once he'd read the last word. 

Short or not, Auguste's four-year-old brother had just read an entire chapter of a book meant for kids around twice his age more or less on his own, without him seeming to even grasp that that might be strange for him to do.

"You've been reading to yourself at night for a while now, haven't you?" Auguste asked, solidifying for himself the reality of it.

"Yeah," Laurent said, drawing the word out almost mockingly, like he thought Auguste must be a little slow for even bothering to point out such a painfully obvious thing. "What'd you think I was doing?"

What _had_ Auguste been thinking? Auguste really should have anticipated this, and recognised it for what it was from right back at the earliest signs. After all, everyone had been saying for years – since just months after that first time Mother had presented a screaming lump curled inside a blanket to Auguste and told him he had a brother now – that Laurent was seriously bright. Or precocious, or advanced, or any of a number of other terms that all clearly boiled down to remarking upon just how much quicker he was to pick up on new things than Auguste had been as a baby. ("But never mind that, darling, you're still certainly no slouch now," Mother had tried to assuage Auguste, as if she thought he might be legitimately threatened by his little brother's apparent brilliance instead of just being proud of Laurent.)

"Oh, never mind me," Auguste said. "I was just being silly."

"You're _always_ silly," Laurent decided.

"Little scamp." The words were said teasingly, and Auguste made especially certain that Laurent understood that he meant it affectionately by pressing a kiss to Laurent's forehead. Auguste laughed when Laurent screwed up his face and pretended it was 'icky' to have his brother slobbering on his face, because just yesterday Laurent had apparently seen one of his playmates, Aimeric, do the same thing when his mother kissed him and had decided that must be the 'proper' reaction. Mother said to give him all of a week before he'd moved on entirely to the next strange phase in behaviour.

Just as Auguste had expected, Laurent seemed considerably less appalled by Auguste's promise: "I'll get Mother to buy more books for you to read." 

"Really?"

"Would I say it if I didn't mean it?"

"Pirate books?" Laurent asked. 

"I'm sure we can find some stories with pirates, yeah."

Even more eagerly, Laurent added, "And wrestlers?"

Auguste frowned. "Wrestlers? What do you know about wrestling." What had they been teaching him at day-care?

Laurent shrugged. "Lazar puts on wrestling while I read."

Did he now? Busted, Auguste thought. 

He'd _told_ Mother that Lazar was way too immature (and too much of a prick, though he'd been careful to cover Laurent's ears for that part) to babysit for Laurent. Annoyingly, Mother had just looked askance at Auguste and brought up how Auguste considered himself old enough to look after his brother on the evenings when he wasn't at fencing practice, and that Lazar was actually a year older than Auguste. As if age alone really meant anything when it came to that moron. Had she even _met_ Lazar?

And also, did that mean that Lazar might have realised that Laurent was actually reading even before Auguste had, and just never mentioned it because it benefitted him to have free time while Laurent read when they all assumed Lazar was earning his wage by actively entertaining Laurent himself? The dirty liar. Auguste would make sure that Lazar suffered more than just the loss of his babysitting gig in that case. 

"I like wrestling!" Laurent assured him earnestly. Auguste's expression must have made it obvious that he was mad.

"Do you?" Auguste asked. "I thought you were busy reading while the wrestling was on."

"I get distracted by the beeping. I like watching when they hit each other with chairs, too."

Oh, Lazar was definitely going to pay when Mother found out he'd been introducing her baby boy to badly-censored swearing and graphic violence played for entertainment. Auguste wouldn't even have to do a thing.

Pleased, Auguste offered Laurent a reward: "Do you want to read another story before you go to bed?"

"Another!" Laurent parroted excitedly. As if there had been any question about that.

Auguste did the reading this time, since Laurent's eyes were already starting to droop. They stayed up half an hour past Laurent's bedtime, in the end. When asked why later, Auguste would tell Mother that it was in celebration of the revelation that Laurent really was a little genius. 

But really it was just as much celebration over the fact that Auguste now had the ammunition he needed to get Lazar to stop hanging around and hitting on Auguste every time after his babysitting shifts ended. Like Auguste would be interested in _that_. At all. Even a little.

Even if Lazar did seem to get along really well with Laurent, he was still _annoying_.

Auguste would be glad to be rid of him. 

Though Auguste _guessed_ he might be persuaded not to turn Lazar in to Mother if Laurent said he wanted him to remain his babysitter. For Laurent's sake. Maybe.


End file.
